Extra Curricular Activities
by Trunks lil' sis
Summary: Kurt joins the Cheerios. Now all he has to do is tell his father.


Title: Extra Curricular Activities

Author: Jen

Characters: Kurt, Burt

Notes: Set midway through season one, just after the Madonna episode

* * *

**Extra Curricular Activities**

"So," his father said a bit bluntly, but with clear caution in his voice, "you're a cheerleader now."

Kurt couldn't help the tiny wince that crossed his face, his arms folding across his chest in a defensive way, obscuring the Cheerios logo. He supposed it would have been better to broach the subject with his father ahead of taking the position, and not simply showing up at the shop in uniform. "Yes?"

"Is that a question or a statement?" Burt stepped back from the engine he'd been hunched over and pulled a rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands on.

"Statement," Kurt squeaked out, trying to rally his confidence. "Statement, definitely. I joined, the Cheerios, that is, today. Mercedes and I did."

His father's eyebrows inched even further up as be said, "Mercedes doesn't seem the type. And I thought you weren't either."

Was that disappointment Kurt detected on his father's face? It had him scrambling to say, "Coach Sylvester was really very convincing, and maybe just a little threatening. I think this is a good opportunity for me to-"

"Kurt," his father interrupted, "just tell me that it's what you want to do."

Kurt took a deep breath. "I want to give it a try."

His father took a step closer, taking a better look at the uniform. Then he remarked, "This why you quit the football team?"

"No," Kurt was quick to deny. "I …" he'd only joined the football team to cover his dirty lie in the first place. It wouldn't have been necessary if he'd been more honest with both himself and his father. But then he'd lingered on the football team for months into the season out of the odd rush of pride he got from seeing his father at his games, sitting hours in the cold while half the time Kurt never even got to play his position.

"We never did talk about that," his father reminded. Burt dropped the hood closed on the car.

Kurt wanted to tell him that joining the football team hadn't made things better for him. He'd still been picked on, humiliated at school, and treated like trash. And if anything, things had gotten worse. The verbal abuse had nearly doubled from jocks who were uncomfortable sharing a locker room with him, and Kurt had always harbored a fear of what could happen if he ever missed a field goal. He'd quit the team because he had no love for the game, and even less for his teammates.

"Kurt?"

Kurt shook his head a little and explained, "Football cut into my Glee schedule."

He wasn't fooling his father for a second, and Kurt knew it, especially when his father pointed out, "Aren't there other football players in Glee?"

Kurt's head dipped. "I just … I wasn't enjoying myself. You're not disappointed, are you?"

Burt laughed a little, waving across the garage as one of the mechanics headed out for the night. "Of course not, Kurt. Don't you think I could tell from the beginning how uncomfortable you were?"

The teenager dared to take a step closer to his father. "I didn't quit the football team to join Cheerios. I wasn't even planning on it, but Coach Sylvester made Mercedes and I an offer we couldn't say no to, especially if we wanted to continue breathing. I get the feeling people don't typically tell her no."

Kurt tried not to jerk backwards as his father's fingers brushed across the red and white lines of his uniform. His father observed, "You didn't think you could say no?"

Unabashed, Kurt assured, "It's not like I was forced, dad. Mercedes and I … and a lot of the Glee club, actually, we've all been feeling a little overlooked by Mr. Shue lately. He means well, but his blatant favoritism to Rachel gets tiring after a while. Cheerios will give Mercedes and I a chance to stand out more."

The way Burt's face blanched caused Kurt to regret his words. "You're going to take flack for this," his father said kindly, knowingly.

"Maybe," Kurt agreed. "I'm sure some of the jocks will jump at the chance to tell me how I'm finally in a gender appropriate sport. But I'm not the only boy on the Cheerios. It won't just be me out there with a bunch of girls. Plus, arguably, cheerleading is a more athletic sport than football is."

Burt scoffed. "I hate to tell you kid, but I disagree there."

"Really" Kurt pressed good naturedly. "Football practice was a breeze compared to the three ring circus Coach Sylvester put us through today. I think my feet are going to fall off. I don't even want to think about how I'm going to feel in the morning. And I have practice again tomorrow. I'm beginning to see why the Cheerios have a collective bad attitude. But this could be good, dad. The Cheerios always go to Nationals, and that's on TV. They get the kind of recognition that Glee club will never have. That's recognition I can have."

"Well," Burt said, brushing his fingers along Kurt's shoulders, "if you're happy, then okay. And you look very handsome in the uniform."

Kurt was certain he did not look handsome. He'd spent almost an hour in front of a mirror earlier that day, fussing over his appearance. The white of the uniform made him look even more delicate than he already appeared to be, and the red brought attention to the shape of his hips. It wasn't as if he looked bad, Kurt recognized as much, but the uniform created an image that he wasn't sure was helpful, at least if the look of protectiveness in his father's eyes meant anything.

"Did you know your mother was a cheerleader?"

That startled Kurt. "She was?"

"Help me lock up," his father requested, heading to his office. He called over his shoulder, "You got all the best things about her, Kurt. You don't have any of the insecurity that she did."

He wanted to tell his father that he was insecure, but he was certainly good at hiding it.

Kurt hurried after his father, asking, "What's that mean?"

"Senior year," his father explained, "and your mother, who'd never needed to be a part of anything to feel validated, joined the cheerleaders. I guess she got it in her mind that since she was dating me, and I was on the football team, that she needed to be on the cheer squad. I tried to tell her otherwise, but she went and joined anyway. She hated it."

A smile spread across Kurt features. "She hated it? What happened?" It was Kurt's favorite pastime to hear about his mother. He was certain normal children had asked for bedtime stories about fairytales, but Kurt had always asked for stories about her. His father always had the best memories to share.

"She started prancing around in those tiny skirts, and flipping her hair, and acting like she wasn't half as smart as I really knew she was. She fit in, alright, but I think there was a distance growing between us right from the beginning." He father amended, "I did really like the tiny skirts."

Kurt laughed, feeling as if he probably should have felt odd at the admission. "But obviously you stayed in love. You got married, and you had me."

Burt held up two fingers. "She lasted two weeks. At the end of that second week, during the homecoming game, she lost it. She quit, right there on the field, tossed her duffle at the coach and gave her team a pretty big lecture about individuality and not compromising integrity for the sake of fitting in. That's … that's the best part of her I was talking about you having, Kurt. I never have to worry about that with you."

Uncomfortably, Kurt's fingers twisted together. "But she had you." His mother had his father to tell her she was loved, and accepted and wanted. Kurt had no one.

"You will," his father said, and Kurt realized he'd spoken out loud. "Look, you know I'm not good at this boy stuff." Burt rubbed the back of his neck, "And I don't really know how to handle this, but I am trying my best, and what I do know that you're going to have someone Kurt. You'll have someone who will love you because of who you are, and not who you aren't. And it'll be worth the wait."

"Okay," Kurt breathed out, licking at his lips. "Thanks."

"I mean it," his father reinforced.

Kurt quickly helped his father close down the shop, settling the alarm and sneaking under the overhead security grate as it closed.

With careful words, Kurt said, "Mercedes and I are making our debute as Cheerios at the basketball game on Saturday." Nervously, he rambled, "Actually, we make our first appearance on Friday, at a school pep rally. Coach Slyvester wants us to perform a Madonna number, which I wholly agree with, but technically that will be the first time we-"

"Saturday?" Burt interrupted, giving Kurt a look from the corner of his eyes.

Kurt gave a small shrug. "You don't have to come. The Cheerios are only there to look pretty during games. Coach Sylvester just uses the games to promote her belief in Darwin's theory and this Saturday may possibly just be an excuse for her to rub Mercedes and I in Mr. Shue's face." Kurt tried to sound as understanding as possible. "And I know Saturdays are always busy. I haven't given you a lot of time, either, to make plans to have someone cover your shift. Next time I'll-"

"I'll be there."

"Really?" Kurt asked, surprise written on his face.

His father rolled his eyes. "Of course. Did you think I wasn't going to come?"

Kurt worried is bottom lip. "Cheerios aren't like being on the football team. There is a distinctly different connotation. It's one thing to go watch your son play on a football team, and another thing to watch him sing on a cheer squad."

Questioningly, Burt said, "Sing?"

"I'm certain Coach Sylvester only let Mercedes and I on the Cheerios because of our voices."

"She's using you?" Burt demanded.

"No more than we're using her," Kurt hurried to say. "It's a mutual circle of usage. She uses our voices to take her to Nationals, and we use her to be center stage while singing. There are also quite a few scholarships attached to the Cheerios. If I start now, I can be Head Cheerio by senior year, and then win a few scholarships." It wasn't that Kurt wanted to pursue cheerleading into college, or that he and his father were financially strapped, but anything to lessen the burden of college tuition was a good thing in Kurt's book. He wasn't shooting for Ohio State like most of his schoolmates were. Kurt wanted to go someone far away, in either New York or California. And it wasn't going to be cheap.

"I'll be there Saturday," Burt repeated. "I'll find someone to cover my shift, or I'll close the shop."

"Thanks," Kurt mumbled.

"No problem."


End file.
